


A Strange Interlude

by KateyBarton



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angsty Sonny, Annoyed Barba, Barisi - Freeform, Fake Married Barisi, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Witness Protection, all the good tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 01:43:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18326138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateyBarton/pseuds/KateyBarton
Summary: Barba and Carisi are forced to play house in the suburbs after an undercover assignment goes awry





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at Barisi and I do a multi-chapter.  
> Honestly, what am I thinking?

 

 

The weight of Sonny’s eyelids felt like cement with every passing flash from the bright orange streetlights that rushed past his bloodshot eyes and the quick bursts of light threatened to illuminate the weary expression etched onto his face. He felt himself drift in and out of consciousness though despite his mental fatigue his body teemed with frenetic energy. Lazily he watched his knee bounce on the spot quickly, a trick he'd learned as a kid to disguise the way his entire body nervously shook. Unable to follow a clear train of thought the detective scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration and he had one final thought before he eventually passed out:

_My name is Dominick Morales._

 

Sonny woke with a crick in his neck sometime later and though he felt no better for the short rest his body had settled somewhat. The familiar Manhattan streets that Sonny had called home had disappeared long ago and given way to tunnels and motorways, long strips of road with few distinguishing landmarks.

 

He vaguely recognised Connecticut when they briefly passed through as did he remember the route of the 95 through Massachusetts from a long forgotten trip with his family when he was 13. It was difficult to be sure of their precise location however; things never quite look the same at three o’clock in the morning. The sleek black SUV never merged off to exit and they kept traveling onward in silence to their mystery destination, their only detours being 24-hour gas stations and approved toilet breaks.

 

Despite its stiffness, Sonny kept his neck strained sideways and trained his face toward the cold glass window where he willed himself to breathe evenly. When his eyes started to glisten and his throat felt heavy he squeezed his eyes shut and silently counted to ten – they were not going to see him cry.

 

_Dominick Carisi Jr._

_No. Dom Smith._

_No. Dominick Morales._

Determined to keep his eyes open Sonny watched the shadowy landscape change before him. He wasn’t certain of their location anymore and he wondered whether they were deliberately taking a long complicated route to disorient anyone who may be following. It felt like days since he first climbed into the back of the sedan and a lifetime since this mess began.

 

For almost four months he had played pretend as Dom Smith; he had created the most depraved character he could summon and let him exist under his skin – he had used all the right words, lingo he’d picked up from years of interviewing creeps and despite his strong moral compass Sonny laid the groundwork, earned trust and negotiated prices. It had made his skin crawl the thought of purchasing women and children, talking about them like they were cans of soda at Costco. He had hated Dom Smith, hated every word that left his mouth and the company that he had kept but there had been no opportunity to wash that life off of him, not before he was being given a new name and ordered to pack up everything he thought he might need. Now he was someone else again and he didn’t know when he’d ever be himself.

 

A sudden wave of nausea rolled over his entire body, bubbling up from his twisted stomach and through his chest. It made his skin prickle and turn clammy and he rubbed his palms against the soft denim of his faded jeans. He remembered being seven years old in the back of his parents’ wood paneled station wagon, sitting in the middle between Gina and Bella, Teresa was allowed to sit in the very back and read magazines with Andrew McCarthy and Rob Lowe on the cover. That same rolling queasiness would hit him then, sandwiched between his sisters, and he’d yell ‘Pop, stop the car,’ as he unbuckled his seatbelt to frantically climb over Gina to reach the car door in time to throw up his Happy Meal onto the asphalt.

 

Sonny leaned his head back and breathed slowly through the nausea until it passed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually thrown up and he preferred to keep it that way.

 

“Not long now,” a voice, brusque and unfriendly, announced from the drivers seat and snapped him back to reality. Neither of the two men sitting in the front seats of the SUV had shared any details of the journey and in the face of such elusive silence Sonny pressed his head against the window and closed his eyes. He saw Rollins’ face, her frown lines etched deep in her forehead as she sat perched on his coffee table.

‘That slimy little brother of his figured you out,’ she had drawled.

‘You better pack some things.’

 

All the air had escaped his living room when she’d said that and all he could do was stare at the deep crease in his partner’s brow. His heartbeat had thrummed in his ears as she continued in short bursts.

‘Turns out they have some pretty serious beef with our ADA, too.’

 

On autopilot Sonny had somehow managed to change into jeans and quickly pack an overnight bag. He opened one eye now and peaked at it sitting next to him on the backseat and realised there was not nearly enough of anything in there. He didn’t know where he was or when the car would stop but he knew this was not an overnight stay. Closing his eyes again he thought about the note he’d forced into the detective’s hands; scrawled on the back of an old shopping list it was also not nearly enough.

_Everything will be OK. I love you all._

 

 

The SUV rolled slowly into an empty parking lot behind a row of dilapidated factory buildings and Sonny opened his eyes; he waited for the blur to subside and wiped away the damp patch of saliva at the corner of his mouth. A fine mist clouded the shine from the sole streetlight above them and he instinctively pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands. Nothing looked remotely familiar to him and his sleep-deprived mind impeded any attempt to adequately guess his current location.

 

This was his new reality – his new assignment wasn’t to infiltrate and expose but to stay unnoticed and alive. He fiddled with the gold band they had given him and frowned as he slid it on his left ring finger. It felt cold and foreign against his skin.

 

A blue Toyota Prius and a U-Haul truck were the only other vehicles parked in the desolate lot until a matching jet black SUV crept up next to them maybe five minutes after. He had no idea of the time; his Apple watch was sitting in his apartment along with his phone, badge and identity. Sonny couldn’t see through the dark tint of the windows though he squinted at them nonetheless. He hadn’t noticed his escorts exit the front of the car until they were opening his own door and he suddenly felt wary about leaving the protection of the SUV. With stiff legs and a numb ass he slid out and carefully stretched his lanky body. The sun was beginning to rise and the cool air was a little too fresh for his acrylic sweater and torn jeans though none of that seemed to matter the moment the back passenger door to the matching vehicle popped open and Rafael Barba slid out dressed immaculately in charcoal slacks and a dark blazer.

 

He was safe, Sonny exhaled in relief. Rollins had not had time to fill him in however she mentioned threats had been made to the ADA. Sonny caught his eye though remained silent and sluggish and Barba glanced away as he retrieved a neat cabin bag from the back seat. Sonny watched as he used his free hand to push his round wood-grained glasses up his nose before raising his head defiantly and stepping away from the sedan.

 

The sole woman amongst the Marshals cleared her throat and then handed over a set of keys and what Sonny presumed were keys to their destination. Her dark hair was pulled back into a pristine bun, not a hair out of place even after their long drive, and her manner reminded him of the Lieu.

“Take the Prius, the address is pre-programmed in the GPS. You’ll arrive in Camden about eight am.”

 

The keys felt like lead in his hand as he twisted the chain around in his fingers and he looked down to inspect the decorative white pine cone key ring with the word _Dirigo_ carved into it. That rising nausea returned as he recalled northeastern state facts in his head until he came up with the right one.

 

“Welcome to Maine, Mr and Mr Morales,” another Marshal sneered and Sonny immediately recognised the look in his eyes; it was the same one he’d seen throughout his training on the force, during his time as a rookie cop and still now from time to time at the 16th precinct. Hell, he’d even seen that look from some of the congregation at his parents’ church. He bit the inside of his cheek and focused on the car he was holding the keys to – he had bigger problems than one homophobic asshole with a bad crew-cut.

 

Sonny clutched the keys tight in his balled fist until the sharp edges were threatening to tear his skin. He breathed through the frustration and fear long enough to hear Barba scoff, “And then what?”

 

The Marshal pursed her lips and directed her pointy features at the ADA before continuing, “You play the part, blend in and pray you’re the lucky ones.”

 

Sonny stole a stealthy glance to his right in time to see Barba shake his head and mutter something under his breath. A soft plume of air clouded around the silent remark before disappearing into the early morning. It did not go unnoticed by the Marshals.

 

“Movers will come by with the larger pieces; a refrigerator, bed, couch,” she motioned to the U-Haul parked behind her.

“They’re our local guys, they’ll help you settle in and go through the finer details of your security.”

 

She nodded and returned to the sedan with her partner; one of the silent Marshal’s from Barba’s car gave Sonny a quick smile before he too retreated to the SUV.

“Good luck, fellas.”

 

 

Catching his reflection in the driver’s window Sonny startled at his pale complexion and the dark purple bags creeping out from under his eyes; his brow was creased where confusion had stamped itself into his features. Distressed by what he saw reflected back at him he quickly opened the door and slid into the leather driver’s seat and immediately started the ignition to warm the interior of the car. That sick feeling churned his stomach again and he tightened his hands on the steering wheel. _They don’t put you in Maine with a new identity and a goddam refrigerator unless you’re in it for_ _the long haul._

 

The click of Barba’s seatbelt echoed in the silent car and Sonny struggled to find any words to fill the space. Too hesitant to look at the man sitting beside him he stared through the windscreen at the empty car park stretched out before them. The woody notes of Barba’s cologne filled Sonny’s senses and he scrunched his eyes shut trying not to think of his visit to the Bloomingdale’s perfume counter with Teresa last holiday where he sprayed the expensive fragrance on his wrist only to then compulsively sniff for the remainder of the day whilst hiding from his big sisters knowing smile.

 

Sonny felt the heat stain his cheeks and when he saw his reflection in the rear-view mirror he silently chided himself for it. This was not the time. He would be lying if he said he’d never imagined a similar scenario - he and the ADA holed up somewhere together for a night or so, but now, facing that reality a deep sense of guilt pressed down against him and his grip tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white and aching for him to stop. This wasn’t how he wanted it to happen – not with their lives at stake and communication cut off from their friends and family.

 

“Carisi?” Barba’s voice was no more than a whisper next to him and he recognised the tone, it was that soft, reassuring way he reserved for victims and their families. Sonny had never heard him use that tone with anyone from the squad and definitely never with him.

 

Sonny moved the car into drive, released the hand brake and continued staring ahead.

 

“That’s not my name anymore.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely kudos and comments!  
> They're always appreciated.

 

 

The final dregs of winter crunched under Sonny’s sneakers as he carefully surveyed the boxy two-storey house the GPS had led them to. It was set back from the road, sheltered by a row of bare elm trees and the driveway swept around into a loop in front of the house. It was inconspicuous without being an obvious choice for a hideout Sonny thought. There were three other houses he could see through the smattering of trees, all equally private and quaint and in the approaching warmer months Sonny imagined the tall trees would provide shade and privacy. He took the time to breathe the cool clean air into his lungs and stretch his legs with a quick lap around the perimeter of the house. Front door, back door, garage entry and a small balcony off the upstairs master bedroom Sonny observed as he made the loop and found Barba standing where he’d left him staring miserably at the façade. He noted the despondent slouch of his usually squared shoulders and the bitter expression on his face and quickly peered around the quiet street to ensure no one was observing their less-than-enthusiastic behaviour.

 

“The suburbs,” Barba shuddered as he trudged up the three steps to the front door. Sliding the key into the lock Sonny watched as he turned it over and with slight hesitation pushed the door open, which sung out a sad creak. Sonny followed him up the front steps and across the threshold, dubious as to what awaited him.

 

Unable to hide his surprise Sonny let out a low whistle as he took in the high ceilings and open planned living area that flowed through to the kitchen and dining. For just a brief moment he forgot about everything that had brought him here and allowed himself to follow Barba around the house. In an instant his frantic mind was vacant of abused girls, threats of death and the thought of never speaking to his family again.

 

Sonny ran his long fingers along the chalk coloured walls of the entrance that rounded into the living room, impressed at the cosy fireplace set into the wall flanked by two built-in bookcases. He watched Barba explore the granite bench tops in the kitchen before making his way to the foot of the staircase where he drummed his fingers on the bannister and murmured just loud enough for Sonny to hear, “so this is home.”

 

 _Home._ Sonny’s pulse jumped at the weight of the word and he quickly admonished himself for allowing his mind to wonder somewhere so preposterous. They were both here under duress and the sharp knock on the door behind him reminded him of that fact. Sonny spied the U-Haul truck through the living room window and headed back to the front door to welcome in the next stage of this bizarre nightmare.

 

 

\---

 

 

The details of their new lives were handed over to them by the local branch of the Marshal’s office along with several furnishings to fill the otherwise empty house. The ‘rules’ were laid out in detail again as was the direction not to draw any unwanted attention or act in any way suspicious; they were to pose as a married couple starting a new chapter in the suburbs. Along with a few documents to file away and new cards to fill their wallets the Marshals left them with a small lounge suite and flat screen television, a fridge, kitchen and laundry appliances and a queen bed for the upstairs bedroom. They programmed a few select phone numbers into their new smart phones in case of emergencies and left with a final piece of advice; ‘we advise you make up a good history, revise it and stick to it. People like to ask questions.’

 

 

Perched at the island bench Sonny ran his finger along the edge of the new iPhone in front of him. Usually with an undercover assignment he had a rubric to work with and a goal to achieve but this was completely unknown to him and he had no one to ask. He spun the phone around on the polished surface of the bench and reflected on the last 48 hours. That bubbling nausea began to rise inside him again and he wondered whether Barba’s stomach was churning the same as his, though if it was the attorney wasn’t allowing it to show.

 

“You know you can’t call anyone from home on that thing?” Barba motioned to the phone Sonny was still toying with. “Not even Benson.”

 

Without meeting his eye Barba turned and disappeared upstairs, “I’m not moving to another middle-of-nowhere town tomorrow because you can’t keep your damn mouth shut.”

 

A minute later Sonny heard the bathroom door slam shut and the pipes in the wall stir and shudder as they came to life.

 

“I’m not an idiot,” Sonny whispered through clenched teeth, choosing to ignore how petulant the riposte made him sound.

 

It was only now while the detective sat alone in the foreign kitchen away from Barba’s irritated glower that he noticed the eerie quiet of his new environment; in his apartment at home he would listen to the traffic noise from the street below, the busy feet of the Mahmoud family who lived above him and the rest of his neighbours on his floor. His days in Manhattan were filled with commotion and sound and Sonny realised he couldn’t recall the last time he had actually listened to the subtle sound of a breeze rustle through leaves. The silence did nothing for his nerves and in the quiet emptiness of his new home Sonny allowed himself a moment to cry.

 

His nose stung as the force of his grief erupted and he released a wet gasp as salty rivulets trailed down his cheeks. He cupped his face in his hands as he shuddered and heaved. He wanted to properly explain to his parents - set their worried minds at ease and he thought about Bella and wondered if he’d ever see his little niece again. Amanda had assured him there would be protection provided to his family, which he knew would only upset them more. He bit down hard on his lip to stop his mind from travelling further down that dark path and he wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweater, noting the dark patches his tears and snot left on the navy material.

 

He had not had the opportunity to properly scrub away the persona he’d adopted for months nor the chance to repent for what he’d had to do and so he sat alone now, ignoring how pathetic he must look, and heaved and cried until he had nothing left to expel. His shoulders were trembling, his cheeks were tearstained and his nose was red and running but he didn’t stop until every trace of Dom Smith and his lecherous, grimy character was gone.

 

 

 

The water was still running when Sonny pulled his heavy head up from where it was resting on the bench top. The chill of the granite had helped to cool his face down and he felt better for his outburst. His neck cracked as he moved his head from side to side and rolled his shoulders before dabbing one last time at his eyes with his sleeve. A jaunty chime filled the silent first floor and Sonny jumped from the stool, his lanky body tensing as he did, and through blurry eyes he quickly surveyed the room. A quick, equally jaunty knock accompanied what Sonny soon realised was the doorbell and after checking his slightly puffy face in the microwave door he hesitantly made his way toward the entry. He thought about the service weapon he’d been issued and quickly backtracked to the kitchen where it sat hidden in a top drawer and slid it into the back of his jeans. He fussed with his hair, trying to coax it into some sort of style as he carefully tried to look through the narrow vertical window that ran the length of the door.

 

Carefully Sonny pulled the front door back and found two beaming faces greeting him, all bright eyes and wide terrifying smiles, and Sonny instinctively leaned backwards away from their eager presence.

 

“Hello,” Sonny tried sweetly though he feared the remnants of his earlier episode still played on his face.

 

“I’m Mary and this is Peter,” an auburn-haired woman in her fifties declared with a flick of her thumb to the man beside her. “We’re the Thompson’s from number six across the street. I would have made ya something but we had no idea you were coming!

 

“I had him pick you up a cherry pie,” she explained as she thrust the pie into Sonny’s sluggish hands. Tired and sensitive, he recalled his violence risk training from somewhere in his foggy brain and quickly assessed the situation unfolding before him.

 

“Peter is an accountant, has an office in town and I work from home,” the eager woman added as Sonny looked over their shoulders to the house they’d come from, almost directly adjacent but obscured by a smattering of trees. He looked back to the salt-and-pepper man in front of him who seemed resigned to never speak a word for himself before Mary Thompson interrupted his thought process and stole his attention.

 

“I’m a hairdresser, I have a little salon in a studio out the back,” she informed him and Sonny made a note to remind Barba that there were was at least one set of eyes they might have to be aware of.

“So if you ever need a trim!” she giggled and Sonny tried to offer a warm smile in return.

 

He concluded that chatty people in the suburbs with pie were probably not merciless killers and quickly shook off his suspicions and managed a winning grin. He balanced the dessert in one hand and extended his right hand forward, “I’m Dominick and this is very kind of you. Bar…” Sonny caught himself with a quick cough, “Rafael, my husband, is around here somewhere.”

 

Before he could bask in that thought too long a large hand appeared at his back, which then manoeuvred around to rest at his hip and a solid body slotted in next to him. Sonny could smell soap and immediately looked to his right to find Barba and the damp mass of his dark hair and the wayward droplets running down the nape of his neck to hide underneath the collar of his sweater.

 

“Rafael,” Sonny croaked, “this is Mary and Peter Thompson; they live right across the road.”

 

Without missing a beat Rafael extending his hand forward and smiled confidently, “Rafael Morales.”

“Is that pie?” Barba grinned and Sonny’s eyes widened at the overly cheery tone he used, Sonny had never known Barba to ever be so cordial.

“That will be great once we’ve finished unpacking, I’m already famished.”

 

Hit with the sudden realisation that there was little evidence of anything to unpack Sonny straightened his body to block the view behind them. Two duffel bags and some appliances were hardly an arduous task and he didn’t think he was mentally up to the task of inventing a convincing scenario.

 

The couple eventually left with polite but uncertain smiles, promising an invite to dinner in the near future. They waved from the doorway until the Thompson’s were across the street and Sonny wondered how many more visits like this they could expect. The moment the door was closed Barba’s hands were in his pockets and he was making his way to the kitchen without another word to Sonny who followed slowly behind, tugging the gun from his jeans and marvelling at how convincing Barba had been.

 

Sonny watched as Barba checked the pantry and then the cupboards that lined the walls, huffing when he found they were all empty. Not a single item for consumption and he felt his own stomach rumble in annoyance. He couldn’t recall the last time he had eaten, possibly sometime on the road between grimy gas stations. Sonny unwrapped the plastic cling-film from the pie and turned on the oven, “I guess its dessert for dinner.”

 

 

 

They leant over the half eaten pie with forks in hand and chewed quietly. Steam was still billowing from the cherry filling as Sonny carefully blew on the sweet treat before ladling it into his mouth. Barba was perched on one of the high barstools and Sonny leant his long body over the bench and tried to ignore the icy protracted silence that filled the kitchen. Despite Barba’s performance for the neighbours he had returned to his bristly sullen self and Sonny struggled to find a way engage him.

 

“You know,” Sonny mumbled around a mouthful of pie. “I think I’ve read every Stephen King book there is – I dunno how to feel about being dropped off in Maine of all places.” He knew as the words were leaving his mouth that it was a pitiful attempt to fill the cold quiet and he waited for the inevitably snippy response he was bound to receive.

 

Instead he was met with silent disinterest. Barba was fiddling with his fork and studying the documents left by the Marshals, he didn’t even flinch when Sonny pushed himself off the bench and threw his fork in the sink with a loud clutter. Swiping his new phone from where it sat next to Barba’s elbow Sonny retreated to the small two-seater couch in the living room and opened up the notes app. He supposed with a frustrated huff that there were never any instructions to act happy – plenty of couples occupied the same space but didn’t talk or look at each other. The corners of Sonny’s mouth turned down in a small, sad frown – in the times that he had imagined this situation, usually alone in bed or sitting in traffic, the counsellor had been willing to share his space and his life. This was not how Sonny had ever imagined it and he bit his bottom lip with embarrassment at the very thought of being disappointed by such a silly little fantasy. He had wanted this, _some of this_ , with Barba – but without the fake names and looming danger hanging over their heads; he wanted it voluntarily, willingly and lovingly not because they were being forced for the sake of their own lives.

 

The cushion dipped with Barba’s weight and Sonny watched from the corner of his eye as he brought his feet up to cross at the ankles on the polished wood of the empty coffee table. Sonny made no effort to look up from the screen and instead continued to type furiously, the faint clicks of the small keyboard a strange familiar comfort.

 

“What’re you typing?” Barba finally asked.

 

Sonny exhaled slowly before turning to look at him - he noticed that his hair had finally dried; the dark locks curling upwards like a wave at his forehead. His green eyes were tired and Sonny imagined they were probably a good match to his blue ones.

 

“It’s a list,” Sonny finally turned the screen to show him. “Of everything we need; a lot of groceries, toiletries, washing detergent. I don’t know about you but I certainly didn’t pack enough underwear…” Sonny winced at his tendency to over share.

 

Barba nodded slowly, “can you please put towels on that list?”

 

Sonny recalled the trails of water running down Barba’s neck and the damp patches seeping through his sweater when he’d wrapped himself around him at the door earlier and frowned as he tapped his fingers over the touch screen.

 

“There’s a Target about an hour out of town,” Sonny suggested then noticed Barba’s mouth pull into a disapproving grimace. “Dominick and Rafael Morales love their low low prices,” he added.

 

Barba leant his head against the low back of the couch and stared up at the white ceiling as Sonny listened to his slow measured breathing and continued his list. He had finished the lengthy grocery list and was moving on to the household necessities to distract himself from Barba’s close proximity.

 

“So, Anton Vukoja,” Barba’s voice came low as his gaze remained upwards.

 

Sonny could feel his skin crawl at the mention of his name and he quickly relived snippets of past meetings and conversations he had had with the young man. He had called himself Dom Smith and he had slinked his way into the Vukoja’s circle of trust with the help of a few long-time UC’s in the ranks of some smaller syndicates known to the Vukoja family. As if sensing Sonny’s disgust Barba spoke again, quieter, “those women and children are safe because of you.”

 

Sonny nodded slowly in appreciation. Closing the app and sliding the phone onto the table he gave Barba his full attention, “I know why I’m here but why you, Counsellor? What, the Vukoja’s are scared of the best ADA in Manhattan?”

 

Barba huffed a small laugh as he removed his glasses and set them onto the coffee table, the wood grained frames landed between his feet and Sonny’s phone with a sharp clunk. “I picked up a few VICE cases early on in Brooklyn one of which involved Nikolas Vukoja.”

 

“Anton’s younger brother?”

 

Barba nodded as he kept his eyes trained upwards. “The middle son of Henrik Vukoja. They let him take the rap in order to save the family business; he and a couple low-level lackeys got fifteen years for drug trafficking and we couldn’t touch Henrik or his other two sons.”

 

Sonny remembered reading about Nikolas’ conviction during his preparation and the family occasionally mentioned his name. Though he never met Henrik, Sonny knew the patriarch had been ruthless in abandoning his son to preserve the empire he had established in the early 1990s and was determined to leave for his two remaining boys, Anton and Luka. In the last five years his presence had diminished and Sonny had learnt first hand that Henrik was facing a stage four cancer diagnosis and the process of prematurely grooming his sons to take the reigns. Anton seemed more than capable of carrying on his father’s legacy; he had the same acumen and tenacity as his father however his self-confidence and greed would be his downfall. Drugs had been the Vukoja’s business and they had cemented a reputation on the east coast for their product and for eliminating any rival competition. But Anton thought he could do better; make more money and build up their repertoire by trafficking something else.

 

“I got word a few months ago that Nikolas was killed in prison - it seems they never forgot who put him there. Once they discovered who you were it wasn’t long before they figured out who was handling the case.”

 

“They sent you threats?” Sonny’s throat felt dry at the guilt of putting the ADA in danger and turned to study the strong profile of his face in the dim light of the living room. If he blamed Sonny for his being here, he wasn’t showing it now.

 

Barba sighed, “For a while after the trial, mostly scare tactics but nothing ever came of it. But then after Nikolas’ death I saw the youngest Luka around the courthouse, sitting in the gallery during some of my trials. He was in a corner booth at Forlini’s a few times.”

 

Sonny’s eyes darted down to follow Barba’s hand as it picked at the seam of his charcoal trousers. Anton had been Sonny’s primary target, though if he had enough to indict Luka too, well that was just a bonus. But the kid didn’t have a head for business like the rest of his family; he did however have a body made for destruction, which had caused Sonny concern. With the threat of incarceration looming over Anton’s head the youngest Vukoja child would be completely out of his depth.

 

A malevolent laugh escaped Barba and Sonny whipped his head up to catch the satisfied grin that had taken hold of his features, “I imagine the stress of this shit storm is probably shaving off what little time Henrik has left on this earth.”

 

He watched mesmerised as Barba brought his hands to his face to rub at his eyes, drawing his long fingers down to scratch at the light stubble ghosting over his cheeks and chin. The sound of his fingernails catching on the rough prickles of hair caught in Sonny’s ears and he felt his heavy eyelids slowly blink once then twice. He had been awake for over 48 hours and with that realisation came a sudden crushing exhaustion that weighed heavily on his body and he thought he might fall asleep right there where he sat. When he was finally able to bring his head up to lean on the couch headrest he found Barba studying him. Sonny closed his eyes and turned away before Barba could read him.

 

“I think,” Barba sighed. “We both need a good nights sleep.”

He removed his feet from the coffee table in front of them and listlessly picked himself up from the couch with a sad little groan. It was a comfort to Sonny that Barba seemed as exhausted as he was.

 

Through the fog of his brain emerged a quandary which until that moment Sonny had either ceased to realise or expertly ignored but it must have read clearly on his face as the man standing before him rolled his eyes as he left the room.

“We are both adults and that couch will be a travesty for my back.”

 

As if sensing Sonny’s hesitation Barba called to him as he made his ascent upstairs, “Do as you please, Detective but I don’t think your giraffe DNA will agree with the size of that couch.”

 

 

\---

 

 

Despite his overwhelming fatigue Sonny patiently waited for sleep to claim him; lying on his back he scrunched his eyes tight and tried his hardest to ignore the warm body next to him. He could hear Barba’s calm even breathing and from the corner of his eye, illuminated by the thin slithers of moonlight, he could make out his supine body and the steady rise and fall of his chest. Years of fantasising about being curled up next to Rafael Barba and Sonny couldn’t even bring himself to turn his head and bask in the moment so instead he carefully turned away from the attorney and crept to the furthermost space to the edge of the bed.

 

Straining his eyes to study the dark, indistinct surfaces of their bedroom Sonny thought about the Vukoja brothers and how it had only taken one person, someone in the wrong place at the wrong time to put his case, himself and now Barba in jeopardy.

 

Sonny and the two Vukoja brothers had been in a restaurant, somewhere classy on the Vukoja payroll, when a beat cop from Sonny’s first rotation had spotted the lanky detective from the bar. Brian Ashfield, affable as always, had approached to say hello and for the millionth time since that night Sonny recalled in vivid detail the moment his hard work had fallen apart; Brian’s eyebrows had flicked upwards in surprised recognition as he approached their table and upon noticing Sonny’s company his eyes widened in confusion and his smile disappeared. It had all played out across his face in less than a second and to his credit he avoided Sonny’s eye and quickly passed the table without another glance however it was enough to raise the suspicions of one of the brothers. It was enough for Luka to excuse himself to the restroom, only to disappear out of the restaurant and pull Brian Ashford into a side alley.

 

Shivering under the cheap duvet he watched the shadowy doorway through heavy eyes. He remembered being five or six years old when his sister Gina would fill his mind with decade-old tales of the Cropsey Killer right before his bedtime and Sonny would lie still under his covers watching his door, terrified for what might come and find him in the night. His eyes remained trained on the doorway for what felt like hours until finally he succumbed to sleep.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, big thanks for the feedback.  
> Please enjoy!

 

Warm sunlight filtered through the study window onto Sonny’s face and he took a moment from cleaning up Barba’s desk to peek through the thin slats of the vertical blinds in front of him. The attorney was busy hanging their laundry on the washing line in the back yard below and Sonny watched as he fussily matched the pegs neatly into pairs of blue, purple and white along the wire. Knowing that Barba took twice as long to hang out laundry based on this quirk Sonny had snuck into the office at the end of the upstairs hallway to do a quick tidy. He wiped over the desktop, careful not to disturb the very particular way Barba had arranged his things and collected the empty coffee cup from the night before.

Barba kept a small pinboard on the wall in front of the desk and tacked on the cork amongst various business cards and post-it notes was a newspaper article he had cut out from the Times last fortnight announcing the death of Henrik Vukoja. Included in the article was a history of the man’s criminal dealings in New York and a small footnote at the end mentioning the upcoming preliminary hearing for his son. Sonny noticed the desk calendar Barba kept next to his new MacBook and noted the red circle around the date; the preliminary hearing was today.

 

As he moved to retreat from the quiet study the glossy corner of a photograph caught Sonny’s attention and with feather-light fingers the detective plucked the 6x4 out from its hiding place underneath Barba’s MacBook. With a lightening fast glance back through the blinds Sonny checked on Barba in the yard and slid the photograph across the desk and into his awaiting palm careful to avoid his fingerprints smudging the glossy veneer.

 

It was slightly overexposed and if he had to guess, judging by the décor and fashion, Sonny estimated it was taken sometime in the mid-nineties. He instantly recognised Barba though his hair was longer and the creases in his face non-existent but they were the same distinct features that he come to admire staring back at him. Young Barba’s head was nestled into the shoulder of an older woman; her curly hair greying and wiry and her glasses were oversized on her impish features. Her right arm was curled upwards so her bony hand cupped the young man’s cheek lovingly and Sonny’s heart ached at the content smile Barba wore. There was another woman, striking in her similarity to Barba, positioned next to the wiry-haired lady and the two were holding hands. She wore the same smirk Sonny had witnessed brandished across Barba’s face many times before.

 

He brought the photograph closer to his face and carefully studied every detail of the man he so admired. His hair had a slight wave through it and Sonny imagined running his long fingers through the dark tresses; Barba’s black Les Miserables t-shirt hung from his slender frame and Sonny desperately wished he had had the pleasure of knowing the young man in the photo. It wasn’t that the photographed version of Barba was any more appealing to him, on the contrary Sonny revelled in the attorney’s current distinguished features, but he longed to have known Barba and to have had more time with him. Looking at the photograph Sonny realised how much of Barba’s life he would never know.

 

Rarely did Barba speak of his own family or his life outside of work, instead allowing Sonny to talk incessantly about his sisters and his parents, about his grandpa’s old shop and his Nonna’s homemade cannoli. Barba kept his stories under close guard from everyone and looking at the photograph he had hidden away Sonny left the study with a sadness he hadn’t felt before.

 

**. . .**

 

Detective Rollins drummed her fingers impatiently against the dark denim covering her knee while she waited silently for the Judge to return from chambers. She had sat on the hard bench seat of the gallery in Court Room E for the last hour and a half listening to the prosecution present their evidence, _Carisi’s_ hard-earned evidence, while she glared daggers at Anton Vukoja and his defence attorney – some mob lawyer, she assumed. While she would not necessarily admit it aloud, Rollins did miss Carisi – she told herself it was his instincts she missed most, he had a good gut when it came to work and then there was the fresh Italian pastries and home cooked lasagne. But mostly, she missed his friendship.

 

Watching ADA Fischer present the case it had struck Rollins just how much she missed Barba, too – his sure-fire manner and confidence was something this prosecutor was lacking and it left the detective’s stomach in knots.

 

Checking her watch she noted the time; she had told Fin she’d be back at the precinct after lunch – they were already terribly thinly spread without Carisi but she wanted to give Benson a full report of the outcome from the hearing. Her fingers returned to drum against her knee as she studied the dozen or so people spread around the gallery. She glanced down at the seat next to her where someone had scratched ‘FUCK DA POLICE’ into the wood, carved out in angry block letters, and Rollins found herself to be entranced by the graffiti.

 

Looking up again when the Judge returned she watched the small group sitting behind Vukoja and slipped her phone from her pocket. She ignored the new unread message from Benson and instead pulled up the message thread between her and Fin.

 

_When was the last time Luka Vukoja visited his brother?_

**. . .**

 

 

_Shit._

Sonny’s hand flew up to his mouth and he quickly wrapped his lips around the pad of his thumb, the trickle of iron hit his tongue and he glared at the sharp thorns on the pile of roses in front of him. Satisfied the bleeding had stopped he wiped his hand along the front of his apron and took up his knife.

 

“I tried to friend you,” his new boss Michelle Barnes called from the empty storefront of the Crazy Daisy, Camden’s only florist.

“Last night, I tried to find you on Facebook.”

 

_Shit. Shit. Fucking shit._

Sonny’s hands immediately stopped de-thorning the crimson roses and came to rest on the workbench in front of him. Social Media could prove to be the most challenging part of this arrangement.

 

Michelle had been kind enough to hire Sonny on his scrappy resume, which included his only real experience with flowers being his after school job at his grandfather’s nursery. His only reference was a false name; business and contact number that dialled Barba’s new phone that was then forced to give a glowing reference down the line to the unsuspecting florist. Without his credentials from the NYPD or Fordham, Sonny didn’t have too many options when it came to fleshing out his resume and Barba was the same. All those years at Harvard now belonged to another man.

 

Wearing a wan smile Sonny looked up at Michelle as she rounded the workbench to stand beside him.

“We’re just not the social media types, ya know” he tried. “I mean, we were but we just found it to be such an intrusion on our lives. So we decided to remove ourselves from it completely.”

 

Judging by her wary expression she wasn’t convinced and so he continued, “And after the whole Cambridge Analytica thing… well, no thank you.”

 

When the older woman nodded in scandalised agreement Sonny sighed in relief. He made a note to catch Barba up on this particular lie so their stories would match in case anyone else were to enquire and he wondered whether the attorney struggled with this particular aspect of their current predicament. Of course that would require Barba to venture from their little two-storey safe house far enough to interact with the community.

 

While Sonny spent his days in Main Street cutting and arranging Spring’s best floral offerings Barba stayed holed-up in his study monitoring any and all progress on the case and if anyone ever asked, which they frequently did, Sonny would explain that his husband worked from home writing his first novel. He thought of the smattering of books on the ADA’s desk and the dictionary and thesaurus sitting under his lamp and smirked at the tiny attempt Barba had made to make the space look occupied by a novelist and not a frustrated ADA unable to prosecute a case. Without contact from Benson and the squad they were solely dependent on speculative articles published online and a few court documents, all of which added to Sonny’s concern for Barba’s general wellbeing.

 

Thinking about it the detective realised it was probably the perfect cover; Barba already had the quiet disposition and brooding genius-like appearance which was accentuated since he had let his beard grow out, a feature Sonny decided was an excellent form of disguise and not at all a warning of any potential mental health issues. Truthfully, he was quite jealous of it – all of Sonny’s forays into facial hair had only led to being mistaken for a bum and general ridicule, and the feedback about his moustache was never far from his mind. He also couldn’t deny how wildly attractive the small tufts of grey that matched the distinguished fleck in the older man’s hair actually were; and coupled with his round glasses Barba really did look as if a great novel was somewhere inside him waiting to be written. When people in the town politely enquired as to the subject of the novel Sonny would smile sweetly and reply, ‘I’ll let you know when he finally lets me read it.’

 

 

A wave of frustration rolled over Sonny and he ran a hand down his face, sending the cool metal of his wedding band gliding over his heated skin. They had been in hiding for almost two months and Sonny had already grown fond of the piece of jewellery wrapped snug around his finger.

 

To his surprise the older woman gently clasped his wrist and Sonny stilled in apprehension. Her dark hazel eyes softened with something close to sympathy as she carefully slid her hand down until it was holding his firmly.

 

“Oh, Dom,” she whispered, despite their being completely alone. Sonny trained his expression to neutral like he’d seen Barba do a thousand times in court.

“Who was he?”

“Who?” Sonny gaped.

 

That soft, sweet expression didn’t falter as she continued. “I suspected as much – the big move away from your old lives, the lack of affection between you two. I could sense the sadness that surrounded you.”

 

Sonny stared at her bewildered.

 

“You’re a good man to forgive him and to make a fresh start. But you know, sometimes you can’t force these things no matter how hard you want it.” She paused as she gave his hand a firm, assuring squeeze.

“And some men don’t deserve forgiveness.”

 

Sonny felt his face twist and contort before he could even think to stop it and he watched as the well-intentioned women before him furrowed her brow in confusion. It was times like these he wished he had Barba’s trained stoicism. Sonny’s smile was wide and he huffed a small laugh at the insinuation - this was definitely not the direction he feared the conversation was going to take and he imagined his relief read as clearly as his disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” Sonny trained his face into a small reassuring smile. “Rafi would never…”

 

Ignoring the fact he’d uttered the nickname he’d only ever used in his mind, or occasionally muttered desperately in the dark of his bedroom back in Manhattan, he shook his head slightly realising he was defending the character of a man he hardly knew outside their professional lives. He knew nothing about Barba’s romantic life, if even he had one, or what his sexual preferences were. At that Sonny felt his lips pull into a small sad frown and turned back to the roses he had left half finished on the bench.

“It’s nothing like that, Mrs B., we’re doin’ fine.”

 

Defending their bogus marriage was proving to be harder than he thought.

 

 

 

 

At five-thirty Sonny struggled through the front door of their quaint safe house, his arms full with two large brown paper bags of groceries. He grappled with the key as it refused to release from the lock and he looked around for Barba to give him a hand before he spilled a weeks worth of fruit through the polished hall. With a final, forceful tug the key slipped free and Sonny quickly recovered the bags before they threatened to topple.

 

The house was quiet and Sonny frowned; he had grown accustomed to finding Barba on the couch watching a documentary or humming to music he had playing. Since Sonny had had the privilege of arriving home one afternoon to hear Barba singing to himself he had made sure to make a quiet entrance so as to bask in his surprisingly tender voice. He made his way through to the kitchen, disappointed and somewhat unnerved by the silence.

 

Sonny dropped the bags on the counter and inspected the disarray around him; every cupboard was open and the contents were a mess, the bench he’d left in immaculate order that morning was now strewn with papers which had spilled out onto the floor. He felt the prickle of his skin against his shirtsleeve as his training kicked in and he retrieved his service weapon from its hiding place. He took another look at the living room and realised the couch cushions were disrupted and the furniture had been moved and rearranged. Quickly, he made his way to the staircase, thankful for the soft carpet that covered each step and he took the stairs two at a time and begged his heart to stop its deafening desperate thrum in his ears. He scrambled unceremoniously up and around the landing holding his gun in front of him like he had so many times before in homes and apartment buildings around New York – but this time it was different, he thought.

 

The bedroom was upturned – their mattress was skewed and the bedding was stripped. Scanning the room he saw that each drawer in the built-in wardrobe was open. Clothes and underwear spilled from the wardrobe and Sonny felt a rogue bead of sweat thread its way through his hair and down his forehead. He knew what he was looking at – a staged break-in, an attempt to rough the place up a bit to make it look like a random break and enter. He checked the ensuite, sure he was going to find Barba lifeless and bloody on the white tiled floor and he flinched in anticipation when he shouldered the door open slowly.

 

Sonny breathed a long sigh of relief at the empty bathroom however his reprieve was interrupted by a dull thud from the end of the hall in Barba’s study. He bit his lip hard as he carefully approached the last door in the small hallway before knocking it open with his foot.

 

Barba was alone, crouched on his knees on the floor amongst a sea of mess; pages from the day’s newspaper were strewn around him along with the few dozen books Barba had finished since moving in. Sonny lowered his gun as the attorney looked up at him frantic. The desk drawers were pulled out and upturned on the carpet next to him and he was rifling through the contents. Barba’s hair was mussed where he had obviously run his hands through it repeatedly and his green eyes were panicked as he stared at the gun in Sonny’s hands.

 

Sonny felt the tightly coiled muscles in his back and shoulder relax and he quickly slipped the weapon into the back of his jeans. His pulse was still pounding in his ears and he knew the burst of panic and adrenaline will most likely result in a headache.

“What the hell is going on?

 

In a flash Barba squared his shoulders and returned to his usual, measured self and Sonny couldn’t help but marvel at the transformation.

“I’ve just misplaced something, that’s all,” he sniffed nonchalantly.

 

“That’s all?” Sonny was incredulous. “Christ Barba, I thought someone had ransacked the place. I thought something had happened to you!”

He tried to hide the way his voice cracked but even now with Barba safe in front of him the thought made him feel sick.

“What is it you’ve lost?”

 

Carefully, Barba began to return the contents around him to their places and Sonny noted the way he kept his head down, avoiding his eyes.

“It’s nothing.”

 

“Obviously its not nothing, you’ve turned the entire place upside down like a madman try’na find it. C’mon, maybe I’ve seen it.”

 

He crouched down next to Barba and began to collect the scattered books, sandwiching them between his hands to return them to the shelf along the wall. As he lined them up he admired the small collection they had amassed over the past few months; there were some classics by Dickens, Dumas and Austin and a few by John Grisham and Stephen King. Sonny had also managed to pick up a few second-hand criminal law textbooks, which he liked to pore over with a pen and a highlighter on nights when he couldn’t sleep. Even though he had finished at Fordham he liked to keep his knowledge up. As Sonny bent down to retrieve the last law book from the floor a crushing dread hit him. Suddenly lightheaded he exhaled slowly as he placed the book on the shelf and turned to face Barba.

“Ah Rafael,” he murmured but before he could speak again the other man quietly dismissed him from across the room with a desolate, small voice.

 

“Please just leave it alone, Carisi.”

 

Nodding, Sonny quietly left the study and made his way downstairs to clean up the kitchen and start dinner.

 

With everything returned to its place Sonny had unpacked the groceries and was busying himself by pre-heating the oven for his favourite roast vegetable pasta bake. He tried not to let his eyes linger on the carefully wrapped gift box sitting at the edge of the bench. He had used some of the satin ribbon from work; the colour matched Rafael’s eyes perfectly but now all he could picture was the frantic look that greeted him when he arrived home earlier. He continually cursed himself as he carefully laid the zucchini, peppers and eggplant onto a baking tray.

 

He could hear Barba padding down the stairs and he deliberately took a large mouthful of red wine to buy him time. Barba had put himself back together; his hair was neatly parted and his glasses were returned to the bridge of his nose though he could still see the concern in his eyes and the deep vertical trench between his eyebrows. Sonny watched as his eyes landed on the gift and he swallowed his wine with a loud gulp.

 

Forgetting dinner for a moment Sonny watched Barba’s long fingers toy with the soft ribbon on top of the flat box.

“That ah… might have a little something to do with…” Sonny nodded his head up sheepishly toward the first floor.

 

Barba carefully pulled the ribbon free and lifted the lid, revealing white tissue paper that rustled under his fingers as he cleared it away to lift the simple black photo frame from the gift box. Barba held it carefully in both his hands; staring down to study the photograph he had kept hidden and Sonny watched as his thumb smoothed over the glass protecting his Abuelita’s face.

 

“I didn’t,” Sonny tried to explain but was cut short by the soft sniff Barba tried to stifle. “Counsellor, I only had it a coupla hours. I didn’t mean to upset ya.”

 

Barba cleared his throat and Sonny anchored himself to the bench top so he wouldn’t reach out for the man before him. He watched as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth, his eyes had not left the photo since he’d taken it out of the box and Sonny prepared himself for the verbal assault he deserved.

 

“I may have over-reacted. I apologise for worrying you,” there was a slight tremble in his voice and Sonny almost melted at the sound.

 

“S’ok Counsellor, I get it. It’s hard not having them here, not having them to talk to.”

 

Barba carefully set the frame down on the bench top in front of him and nodded before whispering, “Thank you, Sonny. That’s very kind of you.”

 

Sonny’s pulse pounded throughout his body and he blinked hard in surprise. As much as he wanted to hear his name on Barba’s lips again he knew this quiet moment was not one the attorney would want to bask in, he could already see him fidget under the weight of his emotions and Sonny filed away the memory and continued rummaging around the kitchen, filling a saucepan with water to boil.

 

Barba was no cook as he had proven on a number of occasions so it was now a silent contract between the two of them that Sonny would cook and he would clean up. As Sonny pulled the box of penne pasta from the pantry Barba quietly settled himself on a seat at the bench; it wasn’t that Sonny minded the company but something about Barba watching as he prepared their meal screamed domesticity and that made his pulse jump and his cheeks blanch from the absurdity of his own desires.

 

“This’ll be a little while yet,” Sonny motioned to the food in front of him. “You can go back to writing ‘all work and no play makes Rafael a dull boy’ a thousand times.”

 

He was anticipating an exaggerated eye roll though what he received instead did nothing for his weak knees and his foolish heart. Barba’s nose scrunched as he smiled at the detective’s remark and he spied the soft crinkles at his eyes, hiding beneath the frame of his glasses. It was a genuine smile, not one he put on for unexpected visitors or enquiring locals in town, it was pure and real and Sonny had caused it though he couldn’t savour it the way he truly wanted as he felt the heat crawl up his neck from the cover of his collar and he turned to check on his vegetables roasting in the oven.

 

He felt Barba’s green eyes on him and Sonny fussed with the stove dials while he desperately tried to collect himself.

 

“Do you miss that God-awful watch of yours?” The attorney asked as his eyes flicked to Sonny’s naked wrist where the Apple product used to be.

 

Sonny hadn’t really given it much thought he realised and with a shrug replied, “actually, no.”

 

“Good,” Barba replied. “The more things your watch can do the less time people want to spend with you.”

 

Sonny snorted a laugh and immediately realised how much he had missed Barba’s teasing jabs at his expense. He filled him in on his conversation at the Florist and about their non-existent social media footprint. Barba nodded thoughtfully and then added with an accusatory finger, “you’re little friend from across the road asked me why there weren’t any photos up.”

 

Sonny’s mind shifted back to the night Rollins had instructed him to pack a bag and leave; he hadn’t had time to take the photo frames from his shelves, the ones of his parents and sisters and he sighed as he looked around their stark living area. If he could he would fill every shelf and surface with photos of the people he loved. He drained the pasta and turned to face Barba, leaning his weight on the sink at his back.

“What did you tell her?”

 

With a nonchalant shrug that Sonny was sure he’d also used on Mary Thompson, Barba explained, “There are no photos because there was no wedding, we eloped. It was just the two of us.”

 

Sonny bit his lip at the thought. He knew it was juvenile but he couldn’t stop the giddy feeling that took hold of him and he wanted to hear more of how the man sitting in front of him imagined their nuptials.

 

But before he could get too lost in his fantasy Barba spoke again, adding a dismissive wave of his hand he continued, “Anyway I have to see you everyday, why would I want photos of you?”

 

Sonny blinked hard and turned his back again to retrieve the cooked pasta. Phony husband or not, that was unnecessarily bitchy.

 

“So do you think we should…” Sonny’s question was interrupted by another abrupt wave of Barba’s hand.

“No I do not. This is not Green Card, Detective, and we are not Andie Macdowell and Gerard Depardieu.”

Smiling at the attorney’s obscure nineties reference Sonny slid the tea towel from his shoulder and wrapped it around his hand to gently open the oven door. As he peered inside to check his roasting vegetables he mumbled, “I’d definitely be Andie Macdowell.”

 

He closed the oven door with a thud as Barba quietly scoffed, “Not with that nose, you wouldn't.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barba's comment about Sonny's watch is actually a quote from Australian comedian Nath Valvo.  
> I think about it every time I see Sonny with that thing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for updating weekly. Oops.  
> As always, thank you for reading.

In the months that had passed Sonny had grown no less troubled by the unusual situation he and Barba found themselves embroiled in. The reality that Rafael Barba was the last thing he saw at night and the first thing he opened his eyes to every morning both thrilled and saddened Sonny, and when the thought absently entered his mind his breath would catch in disbelief. He had tried to enjoy the fantasy, to pretend the man asleep beside him was his lover and this house was their home, however the disappointment was too crushing for him to continue. And so without discussion or arrangement the two had fallen into a nocturnal routine – Barba would be the first to bed where he would read by the light of his bedside lamp while Sonny remained downstairs passing the time watching whatever he could find on television. After a handful of mind-numbing reality shows he would shower and creep around to his side of the bed, always careful not to look at Barba too long before turning his back on him and shutting off his lamp. There were some nights when he would fall asleep on the small downstairs couch only to drag himself to bed with a crick in his neck in the small hours of the morning. Whatever the time of night his final thought before sleep claimed him was always the same: it came as a prayer not to creep into the middle of the bed or snake a lonely arm somewhere it didn’t belong.

 

As he emerged from the ensuite Sonny resigned himself to his usual routine and another night of fitful, uncomfortable sleep when he stopped at the sight of the attorney propped up against the headboard, his head learnt back and slightly to the side. The novel he had been immersed in earlier was nestled open against his stomach and his round glasses were threatening to descend down his aquiline nose.

 

Glued to the soft carpet beneath his feet Sonny stood still in the dim light from their matching bedside lamps, awestruck by the image before him. Barba’s beard with its hints of ginger and grey caused him to shiver as he imagined the feel of the bristle against his most sensitive skin and he bit his lip at the tuft of dark hair that peaked out of the crisp white v-neck t-shirt. He willed himself to continue to the other side of the room though his instructions were just a blur of incoherent thoughts as he stood in awe of the man he so admired.

 

Defying himself his heavy feet carried him to Barba’s side of the bed where he awkwardly perched on the slither of space left on the mattress beside the sleeping man. Gingerly, he reached both hands to the arms of Barba’s glasses and gently slid them from his face. As he carefully rested the glasses on the bedside table Sonny’s breath caught at the smattering of freckles over the attorney’s nose and cheeks and he felt compelled to count every single one. He noted the way the crease between his eyebrows had relaxed and he traced his eyes down to the pillowy softness of Barba’s lips; they were parted just slightly and Sonny felt himself instinctively inch closer like a moth to a flame.

 

His eyes flickered downwards to the steady bob of Barba’s pulse at the base of his throat and unconsciously licked his lips. That same woody scent that had lingered in the cold Prius that morning, the same notes that hung in the air in the counsellor’s office and that Sonny secretly wore on his wrist, intoxicated him. He traced the line of Barba’s solid body and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest until his attention came to rest on the tattered copy of Cat’s Cradle splayed against the white t-shirt.

 

Sonny carefully plucked the novel from its resting place, folded over the corner of the page and slid it onto the bedside table next to the glasses. His eyes returned to the sleeping ADA and though he wished to run his thumb over the other mans face, to feel the bristle of his bead and the warmth of his skin, his hands stayed still in his lap.

 

“Goodnight Rafael,” he whispered as he slowly rose and retreated to his side of the bed.

 

* * *

 

An alarm blared suddenly from a red sedan parked on the opposite side of the street and Rollins jolted and blinked her eyes open in surprise, almost knocking her coffee from the cup holder in the centre console as she did so. Jessie had kept her up through the night and it was catching up with her now as she sat in the passenger seat of the unmarked squad car. Fin hid his smirk as he wrapped his mouth around the breakfast burrito Rollins had shouted him. The tinted windows obscured them from anyone outside and they both carefully eyed the foot traffic making their way through the neighbourhood. From their location they had an unobstructed view into the modest diner sandwiched between a thrift shop and a bodega.

 

“What makes you think he’s gonna be here?” Fin asked through a mouthful of egg and bacon.

 

Keeping her eyes trained on the entrance Rollins replied, “Visitor logs say he’s rarely seen his brother lately, his dad’s dead and the pressure is on him to step up. Anton brought Sonny here all the time and Luka’s too dumb to find a new spot to do his wheeling and dealing.”

 

“Okay” Fin reasoned, “or maybe the kid isn’t up to anything shady at all. Maybe he’s gettin’ his shit together now that he’s on his own.”

 

Rollins turned quickly to eye her partner for any trace of irony but came up empty. It was too early for his devil’s advocate argument. Fin took another bite of his breakfast and shrugged. Ignoring him she continued, “His time is running out, the grand jury wraps up today and he has to be gettin’ twitchy.”

 

They sat in silence for a long moment until Fin grunted and pointed to the young man crossing the road in front of them and into the diner. He kept his head down and the collar of his dark denim jacket was propped up but it was him. Rollins offered Fin a smug smile however her glee was short lived as she eyed a vaguely familiar face approaching the diner. Squinting her eyes and leaning forward for a closer look Rollins sucked in a breath; she knew that face, the last time she saw it he was escorting Sonny into a jet black SUV bound for a safe location.

 

“Goddamn Bastard!”

 

* * *

 

Sonny almost didn’t hear the familiar jaunty jingle of the bell above the shop door as he stared desperately at his phone. He had left it sitting on the wooden workbench through the day and while it lay surrounded by stray leaves and petals, a few scraps of strings, Sonny willed it to come to life. He had sent Barba a text during his tea break, subtly reminding him of ways to busy himself throughout the day – there was laundry to do, he’d purposefully left the kitchen untidy and he knew very well that Barba would be sitting in that study anxiously refreshing his web browser for any developments from the grand jury back in Manhattan. It was marked on the study calendar, circled red and difficult to miss.

 

“They have to get this right,” Barba had stressed to Sonny when they’d learnt a jury had been convened. Sonny could read the rest of Barba’s thoughts clearly on his face: _I can’t stay here forever._

 

There was no problem keeping Sonny occupied, orders had been coming in fast during the week and Friday was no different. His shoulders ached and he carefully rolled them back until he felt a faint cracking sensation and straightened himself. He looked down at the smattering of nicks and cuts over his tired hands and smirked, ‘hazards of the job’ were what his boss had called them; Sonny preferred it to being shot at though he didn’t say it. There had been no reply from Barba all day and Sonny sighed as he cleaned up the cold room; he could hear the low murmur of Michelle and her customer as he swept the stray petals and leaves from the floor. He sorted the paper, ribbons and cards back into order and stored them away before wiping his hands on his Crazy Daisy apron and hanging it on the peg underneath his name, scrawled in elaborate cursive paired with a sketch of a sunflower.

 

Pocketing his phone and picking up the canvas tote bag he’d brought with him for the day, Sonny headed into the front of the shop when his long legs stopped suddenly. Standing at the counter chatting awkwardly with Michelle was Barba, waiting with his palm open as she counted change out to him. Hugged between his arm and chest was a small bouquet of soft mauve peonies, succulents and lavender sprigs that Sonny had arranged earlier that afternoon. He took his time to observe the man dressed smartly in grey chinos and a light blue button down until he caught the attorney’s green eyes watching him from the decorative mirror behind the counter and Sonny felt his cheeks blanch.

 

“Hey,” he smiled as he casually moved closer and nodded to the bouquet, “Whose the lucky guy?”

 

Tucking his wallet into his back pocket and turning away from the eager smile of Michelle Rafael glanced up at Sonny with a smirk.

“Me.”

 

Sonny felt his face pull into what he knew was a silly, boyish grin though he didn’t try to hide it.

“You got a date?”

 

Barba nodded slowly as he made his way toward the exit of the shop, he stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder.

“You coming or not?”

 

Perplexed and giddy, Sonny waved goodbye to his boss and scampered to follow Barba out of the shop. The evening was settling in and the quaint streetlights that lined Main Street flickered to life as they walked slowly in the direction of the harbour. With the warm weather came the holidaymakers and they both quietly surveyed the couples and families exploring the town centre. Sonny smiled politely at the small group of tourists making their way along the harbour to see the waterfall and marvelled at how comfortable he felt in this quiet little town.

 

It surprised Sonny how well he had adjusted to this new existence, perhaps because of his experiences doing undercover work, and though he desperately longed to see his family he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t completely miserable living this life. People in town were kind and inclusive of their new residents and there was easiness to this life that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He knew Barba wouldn’t agree; he knew he missed the rush of his work, the constant hum of the city and the anonymity that came with it but Sonny couldn’t ignore how relaxed he seemed and he glanced over to the man as they strolled toward the waterfront restaurant and watched the evening sun wash his face in warm orange hues and the warm breeze ruffle his hair. Whether he liked it or not, there was a part of this life that agreed with him.

 

At once, Sonny’s back pocket vibrated and a sharp chime emitted from Barba’s own phone. Without checking they both knew whom the message was from – one of Benson’s few encrypted messages that she sent out with a vague update. It had been over a month since they last heard from her. They couldn’t reply, the message was received through a secure app which would delete after reading – ‘the governments version of Snapchat,’ Barba had quipped when the Marshal’s first explained it.

 

_It’s good news: Grand Jury indicted. Moving forward._

 

They both checked their phones as they approached the waterfront however it was Barba that broke the silence.

“I suppose we’re celebrating,” he announced as he pulled open the restaurant door and waved Sonny inside.

 

They sat out on the balcony overlooking the harbour and watched the yachts slowly bob up and down on the water. Barba had propped his newly purchased flowers in the middle of the table next to the tea light candle that flickered with the gentle breeze.

 

“What’d you get up to today?” Sonny inquired while he scanned his menu, which consisted of a few pages fastened to a small wooden clipboard. He had already ordered however he kept his eyes on the pages to distract himself from the romantic ambiance of the restaurant.

 

“I completed the chores you not-so-subtly left for me,” Barba replied nonchalantly. “Then I spent the afternoon at the library.”

 

Sonny blinked in surprise and then placed his menu back on the table to grin widely at the man sitting in font of him.

“The library?” he asked incredulously, knowing Barba sought to spend his time as far away from the locals as possible.

 

With an exasperated huff Barba looked back from the view to address Sonny.

“Yes, the library. You know, books, writer,” he pointed to himself and then added in a whisper, “I have a fake identity to maintain.”

 

Sonny eyed him carefully from across the table for a full minute and he scratched absently at his jaw.

“Mary Thompson came over again didn’t she?”

 

Barba stared blankly at the setting sun on the water, “I thought I’d follow the advice of some know-it-all with a terrible accent who insists I need to get out of the house more.”

 

Sonny’s laugh was gentle, knowing Barba would rather die than take his advice. “Bullshit. You were hiding.”

 

The attorney hung his head in defeat for a brief moment before looking up at Sonny with a pained expression, “She brought over another casserole and offered to read some chapters.”

 

Sonny instinctively screwed up his nose at the still fresh taste memory of the last lamb and yam casserole their well-intentioned neighbour had gifted them and he wondered what polite falsehood he could manage this time when he dropped the empty dish at her house on the weekend. Their server arrived with their food, Atlantic salmon with honey bourbon glaze for Barba and a fresh steamed local lobster was set in front of Sonny and his stomach grumbled in anticipation.

 

“So how much have you actually written?” Sonny asked as he tucked his napkin into the neck of his henley.

He looked up to find Barba mimicking his previous incredulous expression. “I’m not actually writing a book, Sonny,” he stated. “And I have no intention to ever stay here long enough to write one.”

 

Barba sighed as he looked over the harbour again before picking up his knife and fork. “You never hear of people dying in their homes and going undiscovered for six months in places like this. No one gets eaten by their cats here.”

 

Sonny was halfway through battling the first claw when he stopped and looked up at Barba who was happily tucking into his meal, sighing contentedly at his first bite before adding, “People here are so… nice.”

 

“Awful, isn’t it?” Sonny said dryly, more than a little disturbed by the dark turn their conversation had taken.

 

 

 

From the restaurant Barba led Sonny toward the amphitheatre in the middle of town where a cluster of locals were milling around. Set up in the middle of the green was a projection screen and Sonny followed as Barba made his way through the crowd toward an empty patch of grass for them to sit. Leaning back against the low stonewall Sonny watched as people unfurled picnic blankets and folding chairs and a few children ran around on the grass behind the screen. The weather was warming up though the faint chill in the air made him unroll his sleeves.

 

“Popcorn?” Barba asked, motioning toward the small cart that was set up at the entry to the park.

Sonny rubbed his belly, full with lobster and butter and shook his head, “I am completely stuffed.”

 

Noticing a small girl walk past with a chocolate ice cream cone he reconsidered his answer and Barba watched his eyes follow the melting dessert and sighed as he stood to locate the ice cream truck. He returned with two ice cream cones and several napkins and Sonny observed as he licked the outside of the cone where the chocolate soft serve had made its sticky decent. Even when the opening credits started to roll and the audience fell quiet Sonny remained entranced by Barba’s pink tongue as it licked and swiped around the melting treat.

“Watch the film, Sonny, it’s a classic” Barba murmured as he looked forward at the screen.

 

 

Sonny wished he could focus on the screen; he had seen the film maybe once or twice before – he was certain he had watched it once with his Ma, curled up on the couch when he was 15 and home from school with Mono. It was taking all of his effort now to follow the plot and keep up with the multiple identities of Cary Grant while his mind mulled over every detail of the evening and every hope and doubt he held. He thought about that goddamn soft serve and the way Barba’s tongue licked around the rim of the cone and Sonny shook his head and tried to focus on the scene. He managed to train his erratic, thirsty mind enough to focus on Cary Grant and found him charming and handsome and elusive; just like some other man in his life, he thought.

 

With a handle on the plot Sonny found himself genuinely enjoying the film, the sun had long set and the stars shun bright in the clear night sky above them. His memory of the ending had come to him though that wasn’t going to spoil his enjoyment and he felt his breath catch when he heard Barba laughing next to him as Cary Grant, dressed in his fine suit, stood under the shower scrubbing his watch and belt with soap as Audrey Hepburn, beautiful as always, looked on in disbelief. His neurotic, confused thoughts finally took a backseat and he leaned forward in eager anticipation.

 

* * *

 

“Did you manage to enjoy any of that?” Barba asked as they walked slowly through town where Main Street turned into Elm.

 

Neither of them had driven into town that day, instead opting to walk the fifteen minutes and as the night remained balmy they decided to stroll home.

 

“What do you mean?” Sonny asked as he fiddled with the canvas strap of his tote bag where the flowers Barba had bought earlier were safely nestled.

 

“You were thinking so loud you practically drowned out the film.”

 

“What? No I wasn’t,” he bit his lip when Barba offered him a doubtful look until Sonny conceded.

“There’s just a lot to think about with the case and all.”

 

Barba offered an unconvinced hum and before Sonny could stop himself he added, “and you.”

 

“Me?”

 

Sonny flinched at his own honesty and wondered whether his neck and cheeks were blanching which only made him more nervous.

“The flowers and dinner, this whole night.”

 

Barba’s response was immediate as he extended a possessive finger towards Sonny’s tote bag, “those flowers are for me; I’m just letting you hold them.”

 

Sonny smirked at that, he really expected no less from the man walking beside him but it was the sudden defensive inflection in his voice that came next that gave Sonny pause.

 

“Wait, you didn’t enjoy dinner?”

 

Increasingly flustered Sonny turned to Barba to conciliate his hurt expression, “I loved it!”

 

He flinched again at the sound of his eager, emphatic expression and tried to calm himself and the conversation down. This was a mess, Sonny thought, brought about by almost two hours of dangerous introspection when he should have been enjoying the film and his chocolate soft-serve. He felt Barba’s eyes on him again as they strolled through the quiet suburban streets and he took a breath before explaining.

“It’s just… it was a lot just to keep up appearances.”

 

He didn’t give the attorney an opportunity to speak again when he continued, “I mean, I think we’re doin’ pretty okay with everyone – you didn’t have to do all this. I don’t think people need convincing or anything. We’ve done as we were told, to lay low and honestly, I don’t think many folks round here really care.”

 

He eyed the tall trees that lined the street, thankful that they blocked the light from the moon that threatened to illuminate his pained expression. Had Sonny turned to his side however, he would have noticed the way the other mans face turned from confusion to disappointment before morphing into it’s usual mask of indifference. He was quiet for a long time though Sonny found his silence deafening.

 

“You’re probably right,” Barba finally murmured as they rounded the corner onto Harrison Avenue where their quaint little hideout came into view. The front porch light was glowing and Sonny noted Barba’s thoughtfulness at leaving it on to illuminate their walk up the front steps. He watched as the ADA fished his keys from his pocket and he followed slowly up the front steps before silently locking the front door behind him; this was not how he’d wanted this night to end.

 

“Give me back my flowers,” Barba finally said with an extended hand and Sonny carefully removed the bouquet he’d created that afternoon from his bag and presented it to him. He watched as Barba took them to the kitchen to source a vase and some water and when he had arranged them in the sturdy square vase he carried them up the stairs toward the bedroom without another word.

 

Not yet ready to lay awake next to Barba reliving and overthinking their awkward conversation, Sonny made a beeline for the fridge where he sought out a cold beer. He found the bottle opener in the top drawer and let the cap bounce across the bench top, the metallic tapping of its edges a welcome sound to the otherwise still household. He ran the cold bottle across his cheeks as he walked to the living room and switched on the television hoping it would drown out the noise inside his own head. Tracing the condensation along the dark green glass with his finger Sonny stared straight ahead at the infomercial playing on the television in front of him, intent not to think anymore about Rafael Barba.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops - I've been a bit neglectful on this, sorry.  
> Real life happened but I'm back and so are these two beautiful idiots.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sonny stared blankly at the empty beer bottles he had positioned into a neat row along the coffee table and added a fourth to the little uniform procession. He knew it was excessive especially with the wine from dinner and he also knew he’d wake up with a blinding headache in the morning but apart from that he wasn’t thinking much of anything, which suited him perfectly. He had successfully drowned out thoughts of Barba’s smooth skin and perfect hair and handsome beard. And he certainly was no longer thinking about the way his laugh was deep and genuine as they sat together in the open-air cinema. The rich green of the empty glass bottles definitely didn’t remind him of the ADA’s beautiful eyes and the little crinkles around their edges.

Scrubbing a lazy hand over his warm face Sonny pushed off of the couch and reached a long arm out to momentarily steady himself against the headrest as his head spun a little with the exertion. As he waited for his head to clear he considered taking the easy option and sleeping on the couch; he was guaranteed to be uncomfortable and askew though he considered he might prefer it to climbing the stairs and feeling his way through the dark to his empty side of the bed. Convinced this was the best option Sonny clumsily shrugged off his Henley, only needing two attempts to successfully remove his head from the garment, and he balled it up and threw it on the floor to be added to the laundry in the morning.

His flesh prickled from the nippy air, though the days were warm the nights still carried a chill and Sonny realised there was no blanket to curl up underneath. Rethinking his decision his heavy feet led him away from the couch and toward the stairs. If Sonny were honest, he might admit that despite his awkward sleepless nights he did enjoy the comfort that came with lying next to another person.

It was a fairly straightforward route from couch to staircase and Sonny navigated it unscathed stopping once to locate and then flick off the living room light. It was the stairs however that proved to be most difficult; gripping the railing tightly with one hand and dragging his other hand along the wall Sonny slowly crept to the first floor, only scuffing his toes once on the way. With two steps left Sonny stopped when the idea to wake Barba and confess his feelings burrowed into his brain like a troublesome little worm until the detective couldn’t think of one reason not to do it. He had typed a few thoughts into his phone and he had spent many nights lying in the dark reciting what he would say if the opportunity were to arise, and with the confidence that only alcohol could provide Sonny decided now was the absolute best time for such a declaration.

Finishing off the last two steps with a newfound vigour Sonny stopped again in realisation; he had left his phone containing his notes on the coffee table next to the empty bottles. He turned and looked back down the stairs, which now appeared to have doubled in total and he shook his head – he could wing it, it was from the heart after all.

 

He knew the crux of what he wanted to say to Barba because he had been thinking about it since he’d met the man. Sonny never really prescribed to the idea of love at first sight and he still wasn’t sure he did now but what he had come to feel for Barba had developed from initial fascination and attraction to affection. He wanted Barba, had done for years, not just physically but emotionally and wholly. He wanted to know him completely and for him to know Sonny in the most intimate ways, and he felt if he didn’t wake him up and tell him now he might never find the nerve to do it.

Sonny ran his fingers along the walls to guide himself down the dark hallway, mindful not to make noise and disturb the sleeping man. At the thought he let slip a breathy giggle; why remain silent when you plan to wake him up and bare yourself to him? As he approached the bedroom he felt himself grow increasingly giddy with anticipation, certain that this was the best time to finally share with Barba how he truly felt. Their walk home that evening probably would have also been an ideal time and he tried not to think about the things he and Barba could be doing now if he hadn’t ruined the moment with all his thinking, but he was ready to rectify all of that now.

Light from the full moon shone through the slats of the blinds and Sonny squinted his eyes to spy the sleeping man; he could just make out the heavy pattern of his breathing. From where he stood in the doorway Sonny could only just make out the vase of flowers Barba had bought that evening, they sat on the bedside table underneath Barba’s lamp and next to the vase lay the latest novel that had caught his attention. The rich green succulents and the vibrant mauve peonies reminded Sonny of a silk paisley tie Barba sometimes wore to court and he wondered whether he chose the bouquet for that reason. Sonny would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the attorney’s immaculate three-piece suits and tailored coats, or the way his bright ties matched his suspenders and socks; he was definitely guilty of trying to emulate the mans style, but there was something special about seeing Barba dressed casually and comfortably everyday.

 

Lost in the depths of Barba’s wardrobe the younger man’s attention was caught by a momentary flash of a reflection catching on the light from the corner of the room. Sonny looked away from the sleeping man to the foot of the bed and as his vision adjusted to the darkness he could just make out the elusive figure of someone watching over the man he loved. Sonny flinched in surprise and felt his heart immediately jump. His pulse thrummed and he felt deafened by the sound of his body responding in fear.

Managing to isolate the figure of the intruder from the shadowy nothingness of the room, Sonny could see the glint of a gold watch on his wrist and as he traced his eyes along the line of his body his stomach dropped at the sight of his outstretched arm where a revolver hovered, pointing directly towards a blissfully unaware Barba. Suddenly the fuzzy effects of two glasses of wine and four beers disappeared and Sonny was reaching around to the back of his jeans to the service weapon he kept hidden.

His unsteady hand brushed over the cool skin at the small of his back and the leather belt looped into his Levi’s and Sonny pictured the weapon sitting in its hiding place in the kitchen drawer. He blinked hard in annoyance and then drew his hand further down to his back pocket where he kept his phone only to remember he’d left it with his empties on the coffee table downstairs. His brain screamed in frustration and fear as his mind frantically searched for a plan. He wondered whether he could backtrack away from the bedroom and return downstairs without being noticed; he could be there and back with his gun and a call for help in no time.

“Turn on the light then sit on the bed, Detective Carisi,” the shadowy figure demanded. Sonny immediately recognised the gravelly tenor and bit back a panicked sob.

Luka Vukoja was standing in their safe house and Sonny had no way to protect himself or Barba. He had no idea how Luka had managed to enter the house and Sonny was furious for not taking more care checking the entries after they returned that evening. Instead he had selfishly made a beeline for the fridge.

A shiver passed through Sonny’s body and he felt the need to cover his bare chest from the menacing gaze of the young man hiding in the dark. He tried to clear his throat and found his mouth too dry. There is nothing more dangerous than a desperate man with nothing to lose, he thought as he flicked the light switch on and blinked back the startling brightness. Slowly he made his way toward the queen bed and watched as Barba stirred at the sudden intrusion of light.

He considered rushing Luka, taking him by surprise and disarming him but the risk was too high and he was more than a metre away from him. Sonny kept his eyes locked on Barba who was coming around and looking annoyed at being awoken, and as he pushed himself onto his elbows he murmured a groggy question before noticing the desperate young man standing at his feet.

“Sonny,” Barba whispered as the detective approached the bed slowly.

He watched the ADA study Luka, his eyes glued to the revolver that was pointing towards him. Barba had scooted himself up and was sitting with his back straight and his knees upwards, creating a tent under the duvet and Sonny thought about mimicking the position, though it didn’t quite lend itself to heroics. Despite the gravity of the situation Sonny’s mind trailed off to instead focus on deciding how to sit on the bed. He slid onto the mattress on his knees with his heels digging into his ass. While it would allow him to manoeuvre quickly if needed he couldn’t help but fuss about how awkward he must look; there was something weirdly juvenile about his position and he imagined he looked like a 13-year-old girl at a slumber party, braced on knees on top of the bed, ready to dish out all kinds of juicy gossip. He wondered why his mind was so pre-occupied with the inconsequential detail of how his lanky body looked instead of the man with the gun in his face until he realised that it was far easier to think about something so simple than the very real possibility of his death. It was then he understood with a sudden suffocating clarity that he didn’t want to watch Barba die and he carefully crowded closer to him.

 

Sonny quickly surveyed the room and noticed Barba’s phone to be charging next to the vase of flowers, it was two arms-lengths away and with Luka’s undivided attention there was no way he could reach it and call for help without earning a bullet for his efforts. When he looked back from the bedside table he turned to find the other man watching him expectantly; Barba’s eyes searched his and then darted toward his mouth and it was only then that Sonny realised how shallow his breathing had become. He noted Barba’s furious expression with confusion until the attorney whispered low, “Are you inebriated, Detective?”

Sonny flinched at the accusation and readied himself to allay Barba when Luka interrupted him, kicking the wooden leg of the bed with his foot causing the frame to rock and both men to focus on him. The revolver remained trained forward, though Luka’s arm swayed left to right, oscillating between Sonny and Barba. His hands weren’t shaking and despite the sheen of sweat across his forehead the young man didn’t appear to be scared which did little to soothe Sonny’s nerves.

“Luka, c’mon man, lets put that thing down,” he tried, bringing up both hands in a calming gesture like all his mandatory risk-training had suggested to do.

An unhinged expression passed over the intruders face and Sonny thought it looked equal parts irate and hurt.  
“Don’t!” Luka hissed. “Don’t talk to me like we’re friends.”

Sonny nodded and dropped his hands to his thighs.

“You’re a fuckin’ cop!” Luka shouted and aimed the revolver at Sonny.  
“And you fucked us over,” he continued, his voice cracking as he grew more distraught.

The detective nodded again, hoping that agreeing with the young man might earn him some time to think. It was Barba who spoke next and Sonny’s head whipped sideways at the sound of his calm voice.

“Killing a member of the NYPD will not help your brother, Mr Vukoja,” he reasoned and Sonny wondered how a man wearing an undershirt and cotton boxers, on the precipice of death, could sound so damn calm and assured.

“He can’t testify with a bullet in his head,” Luka countered and thrust the gun forward for emphasis.

Barba smirked, “You underestimate how much Detective Carisi likes to talk.”

Sonny’s eyes widened and he looked back at Luka to gauge his reaction.

“And even if you did shoot him, the evidence against your brother is too compelling. He will still go to prison and you will be on trial for murdering a detective in cold blood.”

The revolver returned to Barba and Sonny shifted a little closer to the man next to him. He thought back to that afternoon in the court house foyer after the Hodda case when Barba had joked about his suicidal streak and Sonny wondered whether there was a little more truth than he first thought.

“Better,” Barba said as he stared forward at the gun in his face. “But killing a Manhattan District Attorney won’t be taken lightly either.”

Sonny silently willed Barba to stop talking, terrified that he would provoke Luka into firing his weapon. The ADA didn’t know the young man like Sonny did; he hadn’t watched him rough up rival competition that needed to be ‘sent a message.’ Luka had harmed people without a second thought or moment of conscience; Sonny had watched him taunt and laugh at those who he had hurt. He had seen the photographs of poor Brian Ashfield’s face after Luka’s discovery outside the restaurant; the cop was left with an orbital fracture, a broken nose, fractured ribs and four broken fingers. Sonny had had a handful of nightmares in the time they had been in hiding, and in those frantic, blurry dreamscapes it was always the same result – Brian’s horrific injuries on Barba’s body. The location would change, sometimes they were at home, or in the florist, or on Main Street but the result was always the same; Sonny could never reach Barba fast enough and he would be left to find him, broken and limp.

Luka let out a malicious laugh that made Sonny flinch and he didn’t have to hear what Luka was to say next to fill him with dread. The young man’s laugh broke off suddenly and he leaned his body over the edge of the bed frame.

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” he spat.  
“I’ve already worked it out; it goes you, the cop and then,” Luka motioned the gun from Barba to Sonny and then finally to his own temple, pausing for effect.  
“Me.”

Sonny closed his eyes in despair. Luka had lost his two brothers and his father and with nothing left to lose he was going to take his own life. He looked over again at Barba’s phone, willing it to come to life or even magically crawl closer to him. There was nothing he could do but talk the young man around and so he slowly lifted himself higher on his knees to appeal to Luka.

“Luka, you don’t have’ta do that. If you stop this now, before anyone gets hurt, you can still get outta here. No one will know you were here.”

Ever so slowly Sonny tried to inch his way closer to the foot of the bed as he pleaded with Luka. By the tiniest of increments he scooted forward hoping he could garner a close enough proximity to disarm him.  
“You can go anywhere and start over.”

Sonny didn’t hear Luka’s response nor did he have time to brace himself against his sudden violent movement.

 

There was a burning flash of pain and for what seemed like minutes Sonny was lost to darkness. His mind was a tangled web of incomplete thoughts and memories; his dad carving the turkey last Thanksgiving morphed into attending one of Bella’s antenatal appointments and looking at his tiny little niece on the ultrasound. Sonny remembered hanging out at the bowling alley after his classes at Fordham, sitting in the courtroom gallery, or being cross-examined on the stand. His synapses snapped and his memories spun around until he thought of Barba, dressed in his tan summer suit. He could hear muffled voices, laced with anger but he couldn’t make sense of the sounds. It was cold and he could feel his skin prickle.

The fog lifted and Sonny managed to find his way out from under it. He could hear Barba’s voice like life preserver and he clung to it until it dragged him to consciousness. He blinked his eyes open; he was still in that goddamn bedroom, splayed out on the bed. The throbbing in his head caused him to blink hard and when he swept his hand up to his temple his fingers became coated in the warm stickiness of his own blood. With Barba’s help he pulled himself up to sitting and waited for his eyes to adjust; Luka’s furious expression stared back at him.

“Try that again, you won’t wake up next time,” he warned.

Groggy, Sonny surveyed the room again and came up with no new plan. Unless their nosey neighbours were to notice their bedroom light on at 2am there was no one coming to help them and Sonny’s stomach churned as he realised just how helpless they were. Even if he could keep Luka talking, it would only prolong the inevitable. He could feel his blood trickling down his neck toward his chest.

Resigning himself to his fate Sonny reached out to Barba’s hand and entwined it with his own. His hand was soft and warm, it was strong, everything Sonny had ever imagined and as he squeezed his fingers ever so slightly his pulse quickened when Barba responded in kind. If he couldn’t tell him with words then he would have to show him and at the very least he could mark his final moment on this earth by holding the hand of the man he loved.

Sonny watched Luka’s dark eyes flicker down to their interlaced hands and then back at Sonny and a flash of realisation dawned across his face. A slow, hateful grin twisted his lips and he released a cruel laugh in their faces.

Barba’s hand squeezed his tighter and Sonny read it as anger. Turning his attention away from Luka Sonny fought off the immediate regret of moving his head abruptly and found that Barba wasn’t reacting to the taunting of their violent intruder. His green eyes flickered toward the bedroom door and then to Sonny’s own and Sonny saw relief flash across the attorney’s face. Luka was talking; his pudgy face contorting as he unleashed a tirade of insults but Sonny hardly heard it as he too glanced quickly to the doorway.

 

With guns drawn Fin, Rollins and Camden Police Department’s finest burst into the small upstairs bedroom yelling directives at the assailant. Perhaps from the effects of his head injury or the alcohol in his system the scene played out in silent slow motion before Sonny’s eyes. The two familiar faces approached Luka, stern expressions and mouths moving though Sonny couldn’t fathom the words. He watched Rollins’ expression morph through a range of emotions until it settled on focused determination and he felt his heart pull at how much he had missed his partner.

Luka was on his knees with his hands behind his head, the revolver on the floor somewhere out of Sonny’s view. It was over and as Fin led Luka away, handcuffed and mirandized, Sonny realised he hadn’t let go of Barba’s hand. It was only when a paramedic knelt down in front of him placing a firm reassuring hand on his shoulder that Sonny finally snapped back into real time. The room was chaos, the noise of the officers and paramedics was unbearably loud and the flashing emergency lights flickering through the bedroom window did nothing for Sonny’s pounding head. Rollins was at Barba’s side and Sonny couldn’t make out what they were saying but suddenly his hand was empty and the mattress shifted from losing Barba’s weight. Rollins led him out of the bedroom with her hand on his arm and Sonny was left cold and alone.

 

 

 


End file.
